The Importance of Sunblock
by Rubies and Diamonds
Summary: Your name is John Egbert and goddamn it you should not be this turned on by rubbing aloe vera lotion on Dave – your best, completely platonic, bro-friend's shoulders.


**A/N:** Don't judge me I spent the day out in the sun and got hella burnt because I am dumb and refuse to wear sun lotion. (Now I'm sad and in pain so I wrote some davejohn smut. Enjoy.)

**Disclaimer: **Dorks belong to a webcomic names Homestuck. Said webcomic belongs to Andrew Hussie. Therefore, said dorks belong to Andrew Hussie.

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Your name is John Egbert and goddamn it you should not be this turned on by rubbing aloe vera lotion on Dave – your best, completely platonic, bro-friend's shoulders.

Especially since it is aloe vera, scientifically proven to be the least sexiest lotion around, even more so when you are rubbing it on the hot-to-the-touch mottled red patches tracing themselves across his shoulders and back.

(You knew he was sensitive to the sun, but never thought he would be this bad. It's kind of funny, to be honest.)

Also add in the fact Dave is your COMPLETELY PLATONIC BRO-FRIEND.

(Rose always goes on about how you make such a big deal over him being just that. Apparently making such a show of things like that only enhances the assumption that you lust over him, which is completely untrue. Well, more or less. It would be a big fat lie to say you've never had a certain type of dream involving both you and Dave doing some activities not meant for completely platonic bro-friends, but it seems you always have to remind her that you are NOT A HOMOSEXUAL and thinking about him like that does _not_ mean you like men_ that_ way, just that your vivid imagination gets a bit carried away sometimes. Along with your left hand. But that's besides the point.)

But you do have to bite down on your lip to stop from attacking his all too tempting neck when he groans a bit as you lather the goopy green stuff on a particularly sore and red area. You think him making noises like that should most probably be illegal.

"Can ya please get the bit under my shoulder?" he asks, lifting his left shoulder up a fraction, highlighting a burning red area (also giving you a pleasant show of watching his back muscles retract), presumably the area he wants you to 'get'.

You're afraid of what your voice may sound like, because hell if you'll ever admit it, but when his voice goes into that lazy southern drawl of his, it does things to you.

You're relived when you can huff out a "sure!" and it doesn't sound like you are fighting off a raging boner. You think.

You've always been really tolerant to the sun, always tanned very easily (although Jade would argue that you were tan enough already); so at first you found it really funny how Dave insisted on wearing factor 50 before leaving the apartment today. You figure he didn't put it on properly – stubborn douche wouldn't let anyone do it for him, so it only made you gloat all the more when he came to you with the bottle of after sun and a kicked puppy look on his face.

You grudgingly admit he had the last laugh (unknowingly, it seems), considering you are now in a torn state of never wanting to do this again and wanting to never stop doing this ever.

After the completely inappropriate, unironic, almost-_wail_ he lets out as you spread a handful of the lotion on the violently red and peeling skin of his left shoulder, you decide its high time you stop and make an emergency trip to the bathroom.

"There, I think you're done," you say getting up in the most awkward way possible as to not draw attention to the tent you are pitching, "won't be a second, just going to go –"

"John, ya really think your far more subtle than ya'ctually are," he interrupts, turning around to peer at you above his shades.

"What?" you ask, and – yep, there it is, your voice has betrayed you and gone into give-away pitch mode.

"Well, I mean its highly unlikely the thing that was poking me in the back every time you leant forward was Rose's freaking knitting needles, now was it?"

You gape like a fish for a good few seconds before stuttering out a "shit, Dave, sorry," only to be interrupted again by him again.

"Why're you sorry?" he asks rhetorically, or so you gather, for he leaves no room for you to answer. "The only reason you should be sorry is if you don't let me return the favour."

"Huh?" you ask in the most unsexy way possible. Even less sexy than the bloody aloe vera.

"You helped me out with the burn situation," he says, hooking a thumb to point behind him, "let me help ya out with yours."

You wonder what the hell is going on, because there is no way Dave Strider – who you know to be a complete and utter dork – can be that smooth. If you understood him correctly, that is. It might just be your imagination again.

"Do you mean…"

"Yes, I do, Egderp. Get over here."

You do as he says, and go over and sit down on his bed next to him, not really caring about how blatant your hard on is, for it turns out he knew all along. What gets you is his own.

You're about to ask what he has in mind because you are still not entirely sure what he's on about when he kisses you full on the mouth, tongue and all. It's a bit sloppy and you're pretty sure you bite him (bit unavoidable with your teeth but still), but _wow why is this your first time doing this you should do this way more often_.

You've barely got used to the soft pair of lips and the wet tongue tangling with your own when you feel a hand cup your erection and you are moaning even worse than Dave was a few moments ago. You feel him smirk against you but really can't find it in yourself to care that he's playing the cool dude card, because really, he's the one with the sunburn and he's the one who's caressing your cock.

Before you know it your pants are undone and he's slowly working away at your length, stroking it with such a tenderness that you near convulse with how good it makes you feel.

"Won't be a second," he mutters to you breathlessly, repeating your line from earlier. You're about to protest, to tell him that you'll punch him in the face if he dare stops what he's doing when _god fucking damn it _he's taken you in his mouth, and the hot wet heat is enough to have you breathless and moaning all over again.

Slowly he starts to pick up a pace, head bobbing up and down but his crimson irises always on you, slightly obscured by the dark lenses you bought for him so long ago, which somehow only serves to make him seem even more sexy.

You're kind of embarrassed about how quickly you came. You're not in middle school anymore.

When Dave comes back up off his knees, wiping the corners of his mouth and _oh fuck he swallowed aswell_, all he says is "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

You tell him probably as long as you've wanted him to.

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**A/N: **I hope this has been informative. Never leave the house on a sunny day without lotion.

- Ruby


End file.
